Eighth Grader Syndrome
by Kitsuna Ri
Summary: Based on the anime, Chuunibyou Demo Koi Ga Shitai. Marco thinks he's a soldier in a different realm who is protecting the world from "Titans". Jean knows he's suffering from "8th Grader Syndrome" of which Jean has recovered from himself and is trying to keep his past persona in the dark. Unfortunately, Marco knows.


**Eighth Grader Syndrome**

**A/N: Hello! Yes, another JeanMarco fic from me! And this time I'm attempting a sort of crossover with the anime series, Chuunibyou Demo Koi Ga Shitai. Why? Because that series is adorable! And the idea popped into my head the other night which suddenly produced this first chapter. I hope to continue it if I get enough feedback, I really think it could turn out cute! If you haven't seen the series, I seriously recommend you go watch it right now! Or at least the first episode! But if you don't, that's ok. You should be able to follow the story here no problem.**

**Pairings: Deifnitely JeanMarco, duh, a little bit of JeanMikasa, and most likely some ConnieSasha. **

**Enjoy! :) **

It was a warm summer evening and even though it was cooler now that the sun had gone down, Jean still felt beads of sweat run down the back of his neck. But there was just one more box to go. The porch was filled with boxes and bags all stuffed full of things he hoped he could forget forever. He set down the final box and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking over everything with a small smile.

"Tomorrow I start high school and none of this will follow me there."

His eyes passed over everything, making sure it was all there, and stopped on a tall, slender sword like weapon. It was similar to a box cutter, except much bigger. He picked it up, the familiar weight of it resting snugly in his hand and sighed. He thought he had been so cool swing this around, fighting off invisible enemies when in reality he now understood what a weirdo he'd actually been.

"Gahh," he groaned, hitting his head with the flat surface of the blade, "stop, stop! I'm not like that anymore!"

He set the blade down and sighed. Years worth of fantasy and his imagination sat in these boxes, taped up tightly so they could make their way to the dump. He wasn't that delusional kid anymore.

"Well, time for a bath then I better get to bed, can't be late on the first day," he muttered to himself about to head back into his apartment when he heard a strange sound.

It was a weird buzzing or zipper type sound. He looked around, wondering if something was flying around when he spotted a rope and a pair of feet dangling above his balcony.

"Woah what the hell?" He exclaimed, going to the edge.

The feet wiggled, trying to touch down on the surface but weren't quite down enough. Jean moved his hands under the mysterious feet and helped the person find their balance until they stood on the edge of the balcony.

Dark hair, one almond colored eye, the other covered by a black eye patch, a strange outfit and a grin were all he could make out in the dark.

"Who?" was all he could manage.

"They're coming you know," was the bizarre response, "we must enter battle formation!"

And with that, the stranger hopped off, sliding down the rope. Jean heard a thud, a soft whimper and then running feet.

He stood there, dumbfounded.

The fuck was that about?

Rubbing his face, he quickly headed inside. Whatever that had been, he was quite certain he wanted nothing to do with it.

The morning sun shone brightly and Jean woke up feeling good. High school, finally. He got ready quickly, having to eat his breakfast on the way to the train station so he could make it on time. It probably seemed bizarre to have picked a high school so far from home, but he knew no one else from his middle school would be there. No one would know what he had been like and he could move on without any fear.

"I'm a top class solider, you see, I will be in the top ten percent and show the world just what I am capable of, hahaha!"

The memory passed through his head and he felt like slamming his face against his book bag. Why had he been like that? He had so many regrets. He took a deep breath, tucking all thoughts of his previous self away. And that's when he saw her.

She was tall with beautiful black hair and a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck. Better yet, she was wearing the uniform from his school! He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to her, to grab her attention but pushed aside by a brunette.

"Eh, Mikasa you should really cut your hair," came an instantly annoying voice.

Jean hated this guy already.

"Eren don't tell Mikasa what to do, you're being rude," spoke a blonde who came up beside the duo.

"It's fine, Armin. Eren is right. It's too warm for this long hair."

Her voice made Jean sigh. She was so pretty and if it hadn't been for that damned brat yammering to her, Jean could have spoken to her. But at least he had her name. Mikasa. And she was only one stop away from his home! He would ride the train with her and when he could talk to her they would spend all morning chatting away and—

_Ding! Ding!_

The train arrived, bringing Jean out of his thoughts. He watched the trio hurry onto the train and followed suit, unfortunately getting into a different car. It was annoying, but things could be worse he tried to remind himself. Maybe she would even end up in his homeroom class, without the two followers.

Surprisingly, Jean was mostly lucky. Mikasa was in his home room, taking a seat just a few rows over! Unfortunately, Eren and Armin were as well. Go figure. He looked around. He didn't recognize anyone from his old school. He wanted to jump for joy. This was it, his chance to start fresh and be a normal student. No more delusions or claims of being a great warrior, no, that was all over for him. The excitement built up with in him so he stepped outside, not wanting to chance doing something stupid already. The sun shined on his face and he felt good. This year was going to be perfect, he could already tell.

"Maybe…one last time. For luck," he muttered to himself, glancing around to make sure no one was looking at him.

Quickly, he stood at attention, his left arm rested on the small of his back while his right arm was bent, on his chest with his fist curled and over his heart. It was the salute he had created for his soldier persona. It had a long meaning and "history" behind it that he hoped to never think about again, but for that brief moment it felt good to do it one last time. And no one was looking.

Or so he thought.

Down on the school grounds, hidden by one of the tall trees surrounding the buildings, stood a young man wearing a familiar eye patch. His uncovered eye stared at Jean in wonder and admiration.

As quick as he had done the salute, he put his hands down and checked again around him before turning to go back inside. That was the last time.

Students were filling his homeroom when he walked back in so he went back to his desk which was now surrounded by other filled desks. As soon as he sat down, the guy sitting behind him turned.

"Hey there! Where'd you transfer from?"

Jean hesitated, staring at the guy with the shaved head and big eyes. He could tell him the school. Just saying the name would suddenly give him away.

"Ah, Trost Middle School."

"Woah dude that's really far! Don't you have a long commute?"

Jean shrugged, "It's not that bad, honestly."

"Cool, I'm Connie, Connie Springer," he grinned and stuck his hand out.

Did Jean just make his first friend? He tried not to seem too eager; gotta play everything cool.

"Hey man, I'm Jean Kirschtein," he said as he shook the other's hand.

"So got your eye on someone yet?" Connie asked, looking around at the girls in the class.

Yes, yes Jean did. He looked over at Mikasa, her expression neutral as she listened to Eren and Armin chatter around her. She was standing right in the perfect beam of light. Or maybe that was just his imagination. Either way, she was taking his breath away again. Connie seemed to catch his gaze and laughed.

"Ahh, Mikasa Ackerman, huh? Good luck getting around Eren and Armin. Especially Eren. Those three are inseparable."

The news was slightly disheartening but Jean wasn't going to let that get to him. He was going to find a way.

A silence hit the room when the door slid open and Jean turned around thinking the teacher had finally showed up. Instead, he saw a hauntingly familiar sight.

Dark hair, one almond colored eye, the other covered by a black eye patch, a strange forest green cape over the school uniform and now he noticed freckles. The strange kid from last night was standing there, in Jean's homeroom, causing a bit of stir with his classmates. Jean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that appearance; he knew the sense of pride that the kid was exuding. What he didn't know is why he was receiving such an intense stare from him. Did he recognize him from last night or something? It had been dark, surely not. Then it happened. The worst thing that could ever happen to him that day, possibly all year.

The kid did the damn salute.

His salute. The same goddamn salute he had put to rest just a mere few minutes ago. The salute that was supposed to never haunt him or grace his presence again.

"Fuck."


End file.
